


Your Voice Will Carry Me Home

by araliya



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Makeup Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 18:56:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11469651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/araliya/pseuds/araliya
Summary: Based on this post breakup au: “i know you can’t cook for shit so i’ve been bringing you dinner every night, just, y’know, to keep you alive”





	1. Begin Again

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is definitely angstier than the prompt lets on, so sorry about that! I loved the idea that Darren was the only one who could cook in their relationship, and I really enjoyed writing this, despite the angst.  
> Hope you all like it, my lovelies! Let me know what you think in the comments below.
> 
> I stole the title from Darren's 'Rise'.
> 
> Warning: Descriptions of a panic attack.
> 
> Find me on tumblr at - araliyaintheskywithdiamonds <3

Darren stood on Chris' doorstep, tupperware container in hand, asking himself for the millionth time what he was truly doing there. It had been two weeks to the day Chris had given up, let go of the threads of what had been holding their relationship together, and watched as Darren fell apart at his feet.

 

(He’d cried,  _ really _ cried, and Chris had just stood there, bottled up, unfeeling, unmoving, and Darren just  _ cried. _ )

 

The container itself contained chicken inasal and garlic rice, something he’d thrown together that afternoon, cooking for two even though it had only been Darren at home. He didn’t even have to pretend to be surprised when there were leftovers (in a perfect Chris sized serving), and Darren had convinced himself that it was fine, he would just nip over to Chris’ house, his  _ ex boyfriend’s _ house, and give him the rest.

 

Chris was, after all,  _ terrible _ in the kitchen, the extent of his culinary skills only spanning the limited world of toast. On the days when Darren was away, Chris’ best friend had been takeout, and now that Darren was  _ gone _ , he couldn’t imagine what Chris was eating. It was this, he’d tried to convince himself, that had caused him to not decrease his portion size when he’d cooked the past few days. 

 

(It was more probable that making an adjustment as slight as that would remind Darren how Chris no longer wanted to be in his life, and they were no longer  _ them _ .)

 

The click of the door opening was what brought Darren back to reality. He took in the sight of Chris, hair sleep ruffled, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and a pang of longing coiled in his stomach. 

 

Chris’ initial expression of shock subsided into a cool, calm and collected look (what Darren called his ‘publicity’ face) and he asked detachedly, “How did you get in?”

 

Darren lifted the small device in his palm to eye level. “I still have the spare remote for the gate.”

 

“Right.” 

 

They stood there, both on different sides of the door, until Chris gestured to the container in Darren’s hands. “Is that..?”

 

Darren had forgotten what he had actually come for, too distracted by the purple shadows under Chris’ eyes, and the smattering of stubble on his usually smooth jaw. 

 

He held out the box awkwardly. “I made some food and there were leftovers so I thought you might want it. Inasal and garlic rice.”

 

A faint whisper of a smile appeared on Chris’ face. “Is it Cerina’s recipe?” 

 

“Of course. You know I would never betray Mama Criss.”

 

“Darren… you didn’t have to do this. You shouldn’t have to drive across town just to bring me dinner.”

 

“Bab- Chris, there’s no way I’m going to let you overdose on Pad Thai from around the corner.” Darren mentally cursed himself for the slip of the pet name. 

 

Chris hadn’t seemed to have noticed. He hesitated a moment before taking the container from Darren’s outstretched hand. “Well, thanks…” 

 

“You  _ have _ been eating, haven’t you?” 

 

Chris lifted his hand to run it through his hair. “You know how it is. Sometimes I forget because of the deadlines and the meetings, and once I get sucked into a good writing spot, I can’t ruin it by  _ eating _ .”

 

“You know that’s not healthy! Wardrobe’s gonna kill you when they find out that you won’t fit into their clothes.”

 

Chris rolled his eyes, the beginnings of a smirk tilting his mouth. “I’m not  _ starving _ , Darren. I’ll be fine.”

 

“No you won’t.” Darren wasn’t sure how Chris would respond to his proposal but he told him anyway. “I’m gonna bring you food every day.”

 

“What- no! Darren you  _ can’t _ .”

 

“I insist. You can’t live off takeout forever and we live only 10 minutes apart. Plus, I kinda reflexively make food for two anyway. It’s hard to break the habit.”

 

Chris’ expression faltered a little at Darren’s reference to their life together,  _ before _ . 

 

“Dare… what are you trying to do here?” His voice had dropped down to a whisper.

 

Darren tried to ignore the dull pain that had started up again in his chest. “I’m looking out for you. And we’re going to have to get used to being around each other- you know,  _ normally _ , since filming starts again next week.”

 

He could see Chris searching his face for any signs of cracks, anything betraying how he truly felt inside. He must have found nothing, because the walls came up again, and Chris murmured, “Thank you.” 

 

Darren nodded a small goodbye, before turning back to walk around to the gate, and letting himself out. He hadn’t realized that all that time, he’d been twisting the wide, silver ring on his right middle finger. 


	2. I Still Need You

Darren continued to do that everyday, bringing Chris dinner every night that he was at home. On the days that he had an event or plans made, he’d ensure that the food he’d made earlier in the day was delivered. It was probably a stretch, unnecessary and inefficient, but it linked the two of them together. 

 

Seeing Chris, even if it was for a couple of minutes, was the highlight of Darren’s day, and he knew by the way Chris’ eyes twinkled, that the short visits meant something to him too. They kept up that routine, detached from each other yet still connected by a silent agreement. One that allowed Darren and Chris to thread a few strings through their broken bond, but not enough to stitch them right back together. 

 

Darren was sure that he’d be the first one to break, the first one to give in and do  _ something _ to get Chris back, but it turned out that he didn’t have to do anything at all. 

 

They’d just come back from rehearsals, muscles aching from the ridiculous choreography they’d been put through, and maybe it had been the throbbing pain clouding Chris’ mind, but he’d slipped wordlessly into the passenger seat of his BMW and waited for Darren to take the driver’s seat next to him, as they would back then. 

 

(Something in Darren almost broke in two as he realised that he was thinking about him and Chris in past tense.)

 

“You’re gonna have to drive since I genuinely cannot move my arms,” Chris groaned, as he slid further down his seat. 

 

“And you think  _ I _ can?”

 

“You’re not the one who has to do Kurt’s obnoxious shoulder shimmy.”

 

“Well you’re the one who  invented it.”

 

“Shut up and drive.”

 

So Darren did, following the roads to Chris’ house with ease, automatically turning into his driveway as if it was his own. To be honest, Darren had never considered his apartment a  _ home _ as such, and when they’d been together, it was always Chris’ house he went to at the end of the day, Chris’ bed he crept into after turning off the light. 

 

The crunch of the tires on the gravel hadn’t seemed to have woken Chris up out of his painful reverie, and he tugged on Darren’s Michigan t-shirt weakly. 

 

“Come inside? It’s late and I really don’t want to watch  _ Downton Abbey  _ alone.”

 

“Chris…” 

 

“I’ll call someone to bring your car out over here.”

 

Darren relented, and went round to the passenger’ side to provide a shoulder for Chris to lean on. 

 

(It wasn’t that Darren didn’t  _ want _ to spend time with Chris, in fact he wanted it more than anything else in the  _ world _ , but he really didn’t want something to happen between them and for Chris to tell him that he regretted it. Darren didn’t think his heart could handle it.)

 

The interior of Chris’ house was achingly familiar, moonlight filtering into the open plan of the living room. Everything reminded Darren of their life together, from the throw that he’d picked out for the sofa to one of his watches in the chest of drawers next to the front door. It also smelled overwhelmingly like the Marc Jacobs cologne that they used to share.

 

(Darren now couldn’t even  _ look _ at the pale blue bottle without his insides knotting together).

 

“We’re ordering in for once,” Chris announced, collapsing on the sofa and pulling out his phone.

 

“I can’t believe you’re going to relapse and drag me in as well,” Darren replied, sitting down gingerly on the other end.

 

Chris looked him once over, taking in his awkward position on the couch that they used to collectively sprawl in together. 

 

“Darren… don’t be a stranger.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“Okay,” Chris said, softly. He resumed calling in for his order, including Darren’s one as well with practiced ease. Then, Chris pointedly stared at Darren until he settled himself more comfortably on the couch, and reached for the remote. 

 

Darren noticed that the episode that they had just started to watch was the one they’d stopped at almost a month ago, back  _ then _ . The two of them had binged an entire season and Chris had had to hide the batteries for the remote to stop Darren from moving onto the next episode. 

 

(Chris had gotten his way of course, but not before Darren had sneaked in some living room sex as a placating alternative.)

 

“I don’t watch this with anyone else, and Brian doesn’t appreciate Violet as much as you do.”

 

“Both he and Cooper love Mary, though.”

 

“Well they don’t really contribute to discussions or share cookies with me.” There was a pause. “No one leaves me notes with a minion cushion, either.”

 

The slip of this detail truly punches Darren in the stomach this time, and he bites back a retort (which would have been something along the lines of  _ you did this to us  _ or something equally cruel but true).

 

Chris must have seen it in his face though, because he’d lost his comfortable manner and was now twisting his hands in his lap

 

“Dare…”

 

“No.”

 

The word was out of Darren’s mouth before he could help it, but he had to do this- he had to stop himself from getting hurt. They were both strong against everything that was truly shitty in their lives, but it was Chris, and only Chris, who could break Darren (again). 

 

“I can’t let this happen.”

 

Chris’ face was a blur of hurt and guilt as Darren spoke the next words.

 

“I can’t let you do this to me. Not having you… it’s like not being able to breathe. Like there’s oxygen in the air, but no matter how much I gasp and pant, my lungs still don’t fill up. You’re here, but you’re not mine, and I just  _ can’t _ -”

 

Darren haphazardly gathered up his things, desperately trying to ignore the tears pooling in Chris’ eyes.

 

“I'm going to call someone to get my car.”

 

He didn’t wait until Chris could reply, instead stepping through the living room and towards the door. It wasn’t until Darren was out on the pavement, shivering against the biting cold, that he realised he’d have to wait at least ten minutes until his car arrived. As he stood there, clutching his phone to his chest, part of him wanted Chris to come and stop him from leaving. Another part told Darren that he should go back- leaving Chris like that would be terrible for his anxiety. 

 

In the end, he ignored both, blocking out memories of chaste kisses that had happened on this very sidewalk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to the theory behind the minion notes here: http://plantflowers.tumblr.com/post/64773383268/tell-me-thats-not-darrens-drawing-heart-tell-me


	3. Teenage Dream

Chris never called in the days after that. Darren had to practically lock himself in to stop from going to visit him, all pretenses of taking him food dropped. When this didn’t work, he overloaded his schedule, allowing Michael and Ricky to accept every single invitation for lunches and dinners just so that Darren didn’t have to cook and remind himself that Chris wasn’t going to be eating any of it. 

 

Kurt and Blaine had taken a backseat on the plotlines, so Darren could avoid Chris pretty much constantly on set, which suited him  _ fine _ (apart from the rest of the cast throwing him concerned glances whenever he left the room if Chris entered).

 

Darren tried to convince himself that if Chris was going to be fine with them not being together, he could too, ignoring the permanent ache in his chest that somehow got worse and worse everyday. There was no way he’d get over Chris, Darren knew just about that much, but he’d learn to live without him, he  _ had  _ to. 

 

(There wasn’t even going to be anyone else; Chris was the only man Darren had ever loved and his fake PR girlfriend had practically put him off women for life.)

Darren was managing, he truly was. Until they had to shoot the dreaded Klaine breakup in New York. 

 

The script hadn’t seemed  _ too _ terrifying (although Darren was sure it wasn’t in Blaine’s character to cheat), and Ryan was even letting him perform  _ Teenage Dream _ live with his own accompaniment. 

 

(He tried not to think of the times he’d played that exact arrangement on his tour, Darren’s true feelings for Chris bleeding through each lyric every single night.)

 

During the bar scene, Chris was fine,  _ they  _ were fine. Sure, Darren found his stiff and indifferent manner frustrating, but when they slipped effortlessly back into their characters, it felt  _ normal _ again.  

 

That was, until Darren had to sing. One verse in, Chris’ face was crumpling, cheeks reddening and eyes growing wet with tears. Darren tried desperately to stay in character, but somewhere during the song he was bleeding in with Blaine and the breaks in his voice were soon definitely not Kurt induced. 

 

Darren had always affiliated _Teenage_ _Dream_ with him and Chris; it was the song that had kept him on the show, kept him close to Chris, what he’d sung when Chris couldn’t sleep or when he couldn’t stop shaking. But Darren had thought that this was all it had been to Chris- a song. 

As soon as Darren finished singing and a loud “cut!” called out, Chris was out of the room in an instant, ploughing through the crew and the extras. Darren had watched painfully as Chris grew more and more flushed and jittery and he knew exactly what was happening - he’d been with Chris long enough to know what to do.

 

In any other circumstance, going to him would have been a bad idea; Chris was someone who needed his space, but the absolute worst thing right now was if Darren left him all alone. 

 

Ignoring the everyone’s concerned and questioning looks, Darren rushed out of the congested bar, looking around desperately until he saw a flash of red pants disappear into an alleyway. 

 

When Darren found him, Chris was huddled on the cold pavement, breaths ghosting the air shortly and rapidly. 

 

Immediately, he was down beside him, grabbing a hold of both hands and staring right into Chris’ eyes. 

 

“Hey, hey,” Darren whispered, soothingly. “I’m here, baby. I’m right here.”

 

The tears had streaked through Chris’ makeup, and his hair was falling haphazardly out of the Kurt Coiff. It took a moment for their eyes to meet, but when they did, Darren started talking again. 

 

“Breathe, baby, can you do that for me? In-” He counted to four. “-and out.” Another four. Darren repeated the counts until Chris’ erratic breaths were more steady, and his body wasn’t shaking so much. When Darren was finally convinced Chris was out of the worst, he sat down beside him, and looped his arms around Chris’ still trembling body, resting his head on his shoulder.

 

They sat there for a while, until Chris cleared his throat to speak.

 

“I-I’m sorry.”

 

“Chris, you don’t have to apologise.”

 

“Not for this. For- for everything.”

 

Darren didn’t have to ask to know what he was talking about. 

 

“It’s okay,” he whispered in reply. “I mean, I don’t think it’s okay and I don’t feel okay, but it happened and that’s it.”

 

“But that’s exactly what I’m sorry about. I’m sorry I did that to you. I was so fucking  _ stupid-” _

 

“You’re not, Chris.”

 

“No one with a brain would do what I did. I broke your heart and broke mine too.”

 

Darren’s breath caught in his throat. “What do you mean?”

 

Chris turned to face him, eyes red rimmed and glistening. “I was scared, Darren, so I ran. They- they told me to start bearding as well. Not with a woman, of course, but with a man, preferably someone in my team.”

 

Something in Darren’s stomach twisted tightly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“I thought it wouldn’t ever come to that. God, you parading Mia around like that was hard enough for the both of us, what would bringing in someone of my own do? And then Alla started pushing it,  _ if you want to protect your careers _ , she said, that’s when I realised.  _ I’m  _ the one who was doing this to you Darren. I’m out, and I have nothing to lose, but you could lose  _ everything _ . Fuck everyone who says that hollywood’s accepting of all sexualities because that’s bullshit and we all know it. If people found out about us, they’d say that  _ I  _ turned you, and all your roles would dry up and people would call you a liar and-”

 

“You know I’d have risked it all. I still would. I would give every single dime I had, just to be with you. I know you don’t want to hear that, especially since we’re over, but it’s the truth. You’re  _ everything _ to me, Chris.”

 

Darren felt Chris’s hand lift up to connect with his upper arm, and his chin tucked into the crook of Darren’s elbow. 

 

“That’s why I broke up with you, Darren. I couldn’t stand the fact that I held your entire future in my hands. That it would be my fault if the consequences of us being together would ruin your life.”

 

“Not because you didn’t love me?”

 

Chris choked out a short, wet laugh. “God, Darren, I couldn’t stop loving you if I  _ tried _ . It’s probably the only thing I’ve truly believed, through all this shit.”

 

Darren didn’t know what to say. His heart was pounding so loudly in his chest, he couldn’t even hear the words he spoke next.

 

“What’s going to happen to us?”

 

A pair of cyan blue eyes met his own, and Chris whispered back, quietly. 

 

“I don’t know.”


	4. Back To The Beginning

 

When New York filming was over, and Darren’s routine was relatively back to normal, things did start to get better. Chris was slowly starting to accept him back into his life, and Darren could finally start cooking again without feeling inherently sick. They’d started up their old system of Darren turning up without fail at Chris’ house for every meal, which he’d of course prepared earlier in the day. 

 

And that was where he found himself on a tuesday afternoon, standing on Chris’ doorstep, tupperware container in hand, a strong wave of deja vu floating over him. So much had happened since Darren had started this whole ruse, but somehow, he was in the exact same situation as he had been before.

 

After the talk with Chris, Darren hadn’t expected them to get together just like that, but he’d expected  _ something _ . Yet even after they’d both professed their undying love for each other, the next day him and Chris had gone back to separate beds, to separate homes. Darren knew they could now be classified as friends, but when had they ever been friends? 

 

(He’d practically asked Chris out the day they’d met, and they’d both danced around sexual tension and lingering looks until they cracked, and gave in to each other.)

 

Yet that was what they were, Darren reminded himself.  _ Friends _ . 

 

Chris greeted Darren at the door, this time looking less disheveled and more rested. 

 

“Hi,” he said brightly, moving aside for Darren to step in, and taking his coat to hang up. “What are we being treated to today?”

 

Darren placed the container on the counter as they walked into the kitchen. “Sinigang. I don’t think you’ve had it before, it’s like a soup with pork and lime.”

 

“Well if you’ve had anything to do with making it, I’m know it’ll be delicious.”

 

Darren thought Chris’ voice would almost be considered flirty, as he watched him lay out the bowls on the island, but he didn’t want to hope. 

 

“You know I’d never be as sacrilegious as to  _ order _ it.”

 

“Ouch,” Chris said, as his eyes twinkled. “We don’t all have your burgeoning talent in cookery.”

 

(Okay, if this wasn’t flirting, Darren didn’t know what was.)

 

“Well I certainly try for you,” he replied, moving around so that they were both on the same side of the island. Chris turned to face him, and slowly took a deep breath. . 

 

“Dare… I just wanted to say that I’m so, so grateful.” 

 

Their elbows brushed slightly, and Darren’s heart fluttered. 

 

“For what?”

 

Chris swept his arm around, gesturing at the food and him, and the room around them. “All of this. You. For a while, when you weren’t there in my life and we weren’t even speaking, I felt- I felt like I was  _ dying _ . I couldn’t remember how I’d lived my life before you showed up, and I felt  _ helpless _ .”

 

Darren tried to swallow the lump in his throat as well as the sudden urge to kiss him. 

 

“I  _ hated _ feeling like that, Dare, but there was nothing I could do about it- because I was the one who let you go, and not the other way around. So when you turned up on my doorstep, even after all the  _ shit _ I put you through, I- I-  _ God _ , Darren, I realised that I don’t deserve you at all.”

 

Darren opened his mouth to speak, to tell Chris  _ no, that’s not true, you’re so perfect, so so perfect, and if anything I’d be the one dragging you down _ , but Chris continued.

 

“And that night, in New York, when you helped me in a way that I knew no one else could… I need you in my life, Dare. I thought I was weak for wanting you so badly, but I don’t care anymore.”

 

“You’re not weak, Chris,” Darren said, softly. “You’re strong because you learned to let me in and show me  _ everything _ . You’re strong because you learned to trust me. You’re strong because you let me love you.”

 

“Would I still be strong if I gave in and kissed you?”

 

Darren’s breath stuttered in his throat, and he had no time to formulate an answer before their lips crashed together, hungrily, perfectly,  _ finally _ . Darren had no idea how he’d lasted without this for so long- the feel of Chris’ arms draped on his shoulders, Chris’ hips under his hands.

 

They pulled apart, foreheads pressed together, panting. Unable to wait a second apart, Darren captured Chris’ lips again, and pushed his body against the counter, hips grinding together maddeningly. 

 

“Are you- is this okay?” Chris asked, voice rough and breathy. The swell of his erection was already nudging at Darren’s thigh, and it was safe to say that Darren was definitely feeling the same. 

 

“More than okay,” he growled against Chris’ mouth, as his hands moved down underneath his shirt, fingers brushing the fiery hot skin of his torso. Chris batted Darren’s hands away and whipped off his own shirt before moving on to Darren’s, tearing it open from the collar down, buttons popping off and rolling onto the floor. 

 

More and more clothing was removed, and the temperature in the kitchen increased tenfold as they panted into each others mouths, desperate yet practiced and familiar. Chris grabbed onto Darren’s forearms and flipped them around with ease so that Darren was the one being pressed into the hard marble. 

 

“Baby…” Darren gasped, as Chris placed a series of open mouthed kisses in a trail down his neck. 

 

“Mmm?”

 

“Please tell me you still keep spare lube in the cupboard above the coffee machine.”

 

Chris pulled back, lips shining and swollen, eyes blazing. Reaching up behind him, he opened the door, feeling around for the travel sized bottles they’d stashed around all areas of the house (for easy access). 

 

Darren closed his eyes as he heard the sound of the bottle hit the counter, and breathed out heavily as Chris went back to work on his neck, scraping at the sore red skin with his teeth. 

 

“You’re gonna- unh- leave a mark.”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

“Wardrobe  _ hates _ it when we show up with them.”

 

“Want to-”  _ kiss  _ “-show everyone-”  _ kiss _ “-that you’re-”  _ kiss  _ “-mine.”

 

Darren pulled away suddenly, taking in the sight of Chris, flushed and absolutely  _ beautiful _ , and asked tentatively, “Am I still? Yours, I mean?”

 

Chris brushed a thumb across his cheekbone and whispered in answer, “If you’ll take me back.”

 

“Always.”

 

Their mouths collided again, this time with the firm assuredness that they were in fact,  _ them _ again, and Darren thought his heart was going to explode into a million pieces.

 

The feel of the cold marble against his ass sent a shiver up Darren’s spine as Chris pulled of his boxers and then shucked off his own. Darren felt a pair of hands grip his thighs firmly, and then lift him up onto the counter. He spread his legs instinctively, and Chris moved into the empty space- a perfect fit. 

 

Before they went any further, Darren had to ask, to be safe. “H-have you been with anyone, y’know, since?”

 

“Never,” Chris breathed. “It’s always been you. What about-”

 

“Me neither.”

 

He heard a sigh of relief, and a finger started to lightly trace Darren’s hole, his cock twitching, precome already beading at the tip.

 

“Are you sure about this? It’s kind of been a while for you,” murmured Chris against his ear. 

 

“Fuck, Chris, I’ll be  _ fine _ . Don’t be a tease and  _ get in me already _ .”

 

He heard a low chuckle and then the click of the bottle of lube being opened. Chris’ hand was at his hole again, this time slicked and wet. 

 

The feeling of Chris’ knuckle slowly sliding into Darren was a welcome intrusion, and he loved the look on Chris’ face as he conducted the task of stretching him- always careful and thorough, and never too rough. Darren had never done this with anyone before Chris either, so the process was always the more special.

 

Two fingers in, Darren began to squirm impatiently, fucking himself onto Chris’ fingers, grinding to get as much friction as possible. “I’m ready,” he panted out.

 

“You’re not… I’ll hurt you.”

 

The look of concern on Chris’ face would’ve been sweet if it weren’t for the fact that he was horny to the point of no return. “I want to feel you,” Darren assured him, staring Chris squarely in the eye until he relented, pulling out both fingers.

 

Darren whined at the sudden emptiness, but groaned again, when the head of Chris’ cock brushed against his now open hole.

 

“Good god, Chris, we got over the sweet, virginal tenderness ages ago, I just need you to fuck me right now.”

 

Chris’ eyes darkened and he silenced Darren with a hard kiss, plunging into him at the same time and eliciting a gasp as he bottomed out. 

 

“Better?” 

 

Darren took a moment to get used to the mixture of both pain and pleasure, before replying, “Much better. Now move.”

 

“Pushy today, aren’t you?” said Chris against his mouth, as he slowly started to thrust back and forth, in long sweeps.

 

“I haven’t had you for almost two months, I just need to- ahhh- feel you.” Darren’s eyelids shut as the head of Chris’ cock brush against that spot, filling him with an overwhelming tingling sensation. 

 

“Like this?” Chris pulled out completely, and then pushed back in, the sudden movement catching Darren off guard and causing his head to tip back. 

 

The hands at his waist tightened as Chris thrust again, sparking heat up his spine. “Oh fuck,  _ Chris _ …”

 

They moved like that for several moments, Darren tightening his legs around Chris’ torso, since he was unable to move from his postion pinned on top of the kitchen counter. Darren’s cock bumped between them, brushing precome all over Chris’ stomach, and he used his fingernails to scrabble at Chris’ back, no doubt leaving marks. 

 

The sounds of their moans filled the kitchen, echoing in the open plan of the house as Chris’ movements began to falter, thrusts becoming more and more shallow as he bit down into the sensitive skin of Darren’s neck. “Oh- oh- oh- I can’t hold back, Darren.”

 

“Come for me, baby, come on.”

 

The persistent stimulation of Darren’s prostate intensified as Chris moved into him harder and faster, finally ebbing away as Chris came, shuddering and moaning into Darren’s mouth. 

 

“Fuck, Darren, you don’t know what you do to me,” he panted, their foreheads pressed together. 

 

Darren ran a hand down Chris’ sweat-dampened torso, fingertips stopping to brush against the base of his spent cock which was still buried inside of him. “Oh I think I do.”

 

With a final firm kiss to his lips, Chris slipped out of him and crouched down, pushing Darren’s knees apart with his hands to take his throbbing cock in his mouth. Darren threaded his hands into Chris’ hair as he felt the hot heat of Chris’ mouth on his steadily leaking head. Chris went to work, running the flat of his tongue against the length, before taking Darren deep, swallowing so that he could feel the wetness around his cock. 

 

Tipping his head back, Darren felt the familiar coiling in the pit of his stomach as his balls tightened. 

 

“Chris,  _ baby _ …”

 

Chris only had to suck once more with his perfect lips before Darren was coming down his throat, toes clenching with the force of his orgasm. 

 

When Darren finally blinked away the bright spots in front of his eyes, he felt Chris’ hands come up to cup in his face, and his eyelids fluttered shut as they kissed and he tasted his own come on Chris’ tongue. It was bitter and salty and purely intoxicating.

 

“You know, I don’t think we’ve ever had sex on the kitchen counter before,” Chris remarked, running his fingers down Darren’s sides.

 

Darren squirmed a little, feeling Chris’ come trickle down the inside of his thigh and onto the cool marble. “It was fucking  _ amazing _ , but we’re never cooking or eating off this surface ever again.”

 

Chris laughed, the sound bright and musical in the content silence that filled the house. He reached under Darren to open a cupboard and retrieve a washcloth. After getting themselves both cleaned up, Darren hopped off the counter and pulled on his boxers while Chris did the same, nudging shoulders and elbows as they did so. 

 

“I think we might have to heat up that soup again- it’s probably gone cold,” Chris said, taking a moment to sneak another kiss. 

 

Darren smiled into it, chasing Chris’ lips after he pulled away. “Aren’t you glad now that I always insist on bringing you food?”

 

“Mhmm, good thing you were too stubborn in the beginning to let me refuse. Otherwise I might’ve missed out on future mind blowing kitchen sex.”

 

“Oh I knew we were always going to end up christening this especially fine marble island.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“I mean, we’ve fucked just about everywhere else in this house, why not the kitchen too?”

 

Chris snorted. “Always so classy.”

 

“You love me.”

 

“I do.”

 

Darren grinned, and he felt his eyes go all crinkled and squinty like they did when he was really, really happy. Chris mirrored his smile, looping and arm through his.

 

“Come on, Dare. Let’s go eat.”

  
  


_ ~ fin ~ _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
